Three months later
Yohji stared at the picture, Aya caught off his guard, Omi pulling on Ken's ear and giving him the 'No soccer balls in the shop' lecture, the soccer player yowling in outrage, him sitting in the background. They'd had the picture at the Koneko, and for some reason he'd grabbed it and brought it along when they'd left.
He missed the younger pair with an ache approaching the same pain he'd felt for his loss of Asuka. And almost as much guilt.
They'd never been found, the sea hadn't even yielded their dead, the ruins the only grave marker the pair would ever have.
Sighing he looked away from the picture to finish wiping down the kitchen counter, cleaning up some soup he'd spilled when he'd made his lunch.
He missed working at the Koneko. Missed his team mates more.
Aya had lapsed into almost total silence. As well as mourning the two youngest Weiss, he was also mourning the final loss of his sister. She was alive, awake and she and Sakura were helping Momoe-san at the Koneko. He had done what he'd set out to do and given her back her place in the world. He wasn't sure why he was still in it. It should have been him at the bottom of the sea, not Ken and Omi.
His reverie was broken by a knocking on the back door. Only Manx or Birman came here and he wondered what Kritiker wanted of them now.
Yohji didn't expect Aya to get the door. Aya showed so little life that he might well have died and become a corpse himself, except that he did occasionally change locations in the small house they were sharing well away from Tokyo.
The blond went to the door and pulled it open knowing he'd find one of two people: Manx or Birman. From the knock he knew it would be Manx.
The Kritiker agent smiled at him and entered the kitchen, looking around for Aya at the same time. He didn't keep her waiting long, appearing silently in the doorway to the rest of the house.
"Aya, Yohji, I need to let you know what is happening and what decisions Kritiker have made for the future of Weiss."
She didn't seem too happy about it either, Aya decided. "So talk," he said gruffly, his voice hoarse from disuse.
She fidgeted with her bag for a moment before saying, "We are giving you two new team mates."
Aya stared at her as if she'd gone crazy. "And we're supposed to trust them, just like that?"
"He's right,� Yohji said. �It took us a while to get used to Aya after he joined us, and Omi and I were together almost a year before you brought Ken to us." He sighed and pulled out a kitchen chair, dropping into it before looking from Manx to Aya, "I don't even know if I can still do this anymore."
Although she looked uncomfortable, apologetic even, Manx was still adamant. "I'm afraid none of us has any choice, Kudoh."
"How long before we have to kill people again?" Aya demanded. "A week? A month? With new people we neither know nor trust. It's madness."
Yohji just sighed and but nothing. What was there to say? Omi and Ken were gone, and they were being replaced. Like a light bulb or a worn out car.
"If you're here telling us they're going to arrive I imagine they aren't far behind, are they?" He lifted jade eyes to Manx, "Who are they? How long have they been with Kritiker?"
"They are Singapura and Bengal," Manx told him as she dug a couple of thick folders out of her bag. "Here are their files. They will be arriving sometime this evening. Please try to make them welcome. They're awed enough as it is."
"Awed?" Yohji glanced at Aya. That didn't sound good in the blonde's opinion.
Manx made for the door before Aya's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Who assigned them to us?"
"I'd like an answer to that too, since there wasn't a Persia last I heard," Yohji added.
"There is a Persia," Manx said. "Why wouldn't there be?" She sighed. Much as she liked the Weiss boys, both of them could be too bright for their own good at times. "It was Persia that assigned them and believe me, he has your best interests at heart and specifically chose operatives that he considered would fit in with you."
Yohji's frown only deepened. "Persia was dead. Botan died. They were the ones that gave us our assignments. Now you're telling me there's a new Persia?" He sat back in the chair, eyes haunted. "It's all the same isn't it? Him, them, us..." The blond shook his head. "So he knows us well enough to chose a team for us, but we've got no clue who he is."
He got up and went to the fridge, pulled out a beer and popped the top, taking a few swallows before he shrugged, his gaze on Aya now, waiting to see what the other man would say or do, not that Yohji expected much from the man. Aya was little more than walking dead anyway, and he was going to drink himself to death if the cigarettes didn't get him first.
He reached out and picked up the file marked 'Bengal' glancing at the plain brown covering that hid the face of their newest team mate. One of Kritiker's newest killers.
Manx shrugged, wishing she could say more, but knowing she couldn't. It was just how Kritiker was.
Aya came further into the room then and picked up the other file before glancing at her. "Was there anything else?" he asked, one brow raised.
She shook her head and with another sigh left them to it.
Aya opened the file and started reading until he heard her car start and then fade into the distance. "Persia knows us," he said, "knows us well. I think we've been lied to again."
"Yeah, probably, but that's nothing new is it?" Yohji asked finally flipping the file open and glancing at the picture. "Bengal is younger than we are. About Ken's age..." Yohji's voice trailed off and he flipped another page, reading the information about the young man and the training he'd received with Kritiker. He snorted and pulled an arrest sheet out of the file, dropping it on the table where Aya could see it. "I think he's going to be trouble."
Aya glanced at the document and sniffed. "Trouble for whom? Us or Kritiker?"
"Us probably. Bad temper."
Aya started reading the other file and made a small sound of surprise. "I think you'd better have a look at this. Sounds almost like one of Masafumi's experiments."
Yohji leaned across the table to get a look at what Aya was reading. "Snow leopard? And they haven't told him?" He shook his head. "Yeah, does sound like something Masafumi would have done, doesn't it?"
Aya exhaled sharply. "And we're supposed to get on with them?" He was silent for a while but, unlike his silence of recent weeks, it was the prelude to something he wanted to say. He let out another breath on a shuddering sigh. "I think I owe you an apology."
Yohji took another drink of his beer, shrugged. "For what, Aya? In the time we've known one another you've never apologised to me for anything." He put the beer down, "It's been hard on both of us, what happened. I..." he reached across the table and dared to put a hand on Aya's arm, "I understand."
"Yes," Aya said quietly, "but I was focusing so much on how hard it was for me that I forgot that you were mourning too." Another silence, but that was the way of conversation with Aya. He always thought hard about what he should and shouldn't say as he found words difficult at the best of times. "I've also been mourning my sister," he said eventually. "I can never see her again, not if she's to stay safe." He made no move at all to avoid Yohji's hand on his arm.
"But she's alive and well and probably happy, Aya," Yohji told him. "That's something." He pulled his hand back, not wanting to push the man. Aya never liked anyone touching him, and though Yohji dared to do it now and then, he also never pushed Aya too much.
"That's more than I've got," he murmured as he downed the rest of his beer and crushed the empty can one handed. He tossed it into the trash, got up to get another.
After a very long silence, Aya spoke again. "You've got me," he said quietly. "I know it isn't much and I've been very self absorbed but... for what it's worth, I'm not going anywhere."
Yohji blinked. Turned to look at the other man, puzzled and a little confused. It wasn't as if Aya ever did anything to show emotional support for them.
Or did he?
Thinking about it, Yohji started to put a few things together. Like all the times they'd had a female target to take out and Aya took care of it, rather than leaving it to Yohji.
Aya stared back at him, his expression strangely vulnerable, before he looked away, obviously embarrassed by his small show of emotion. "I suppose we'd better make up the beds in the spare rooms," he said quietly. "Our new team mates will be here soon." The way he said team mates suggested that they would be anything but until they could prove otherwise.
The blonde was staring now, shocked to the very roots of his being. Aya showing any sort of emotion?
He set the file aside and stood, "I guess you're right."
It was going to be very strange to have other team mates though and Yohji wasn't sure he would adjust to the changes.
He missed Omi and even missed Ken and his soccer addiction. They'd been a family, a warped sort of one, but a family nonetheless.
Now they would have to deal with strangers.
But right now, he was going to deal with Aya. "It's more than your sister, isn't it? I mean what's bothering you."
Aya sighed deeply before looking at Yohji and finally nodding. "They should have lived and I should have died. I achieved what I set out to achieve. Now... now I just don't know what I would be fighting for. It sure as hell wouldn't be for Kritiker."
He took in a deep breath. "I don't even know if I can kill anymore."
The blond debated something then decided it was time to talk. "We didn't find their bodies did we? We never saw them. Hell, there isn't even a grave marker for either of them. I've been thinking about that, and for all we know they may be alive. And I'll tell you something else." He frowned, "I think Omi's the new Persia. Who else knows us well enough to pick new team mates for us?
"As far as the killing goes," he shrugged, "do you really think you can just stop doing it? Walk away? I don't think we can. And I think Kritiker knows that.�
"Wait a minute, Yohji. You're saying you think Omi's still alive and yet he's not let us know that?� He frowned at the thought and yet it made a strange kind of sense. "What about Ken? Do you think he drowned or something else happened? Tell me, Yohji! I need to know how you worked this out as I've just spent three months in mourning!"
"So have I, Aya. But I've been thinking too. Manx just said our new team mates were chosen by someone that knows us. Well who knows us well enough to choose new team mates for us better than Omi? He is a Takatori, and so was the last Persia, right?"
He sighed, "As far as Ken goes, if he is alive, he probably thinks we're dead."
Aya flicked a finger at the files on the table. "And if he is alive, he believes these newcomers can replace him and Ken?" He sighed and nodded suddenly. "Yes, actually I can see him doing just exactly that."
He took another glance at the files. "I suppose we owe it to him to give them a chance at least. See if we can become Weiss again."
Yohji snorted but said nothing else as he got up and went to put sheets on the twin beds that used to belong to Omi and Ken.
* * * * * * *
Tanashi Kai adjusted his duffle over his shoulder and dragged the larger suitcase out of the trunk. He glanced at the house and frowned slightly. The place didn't look like much. Certainly not where he'd have expected Kritiker to keep Weiss.
Weiss. Now that was a name to conjure with. He wondered whether the two surviving members would accept him. Then again, judging by his own experiences with Kritiker, they probably didn't have any choice in the matter. Swallowing his nerves he approached the door and knocked.
Yohji looked up from the sheet he was putting on the bed, "Aya, can you get that or should I?"
"You get it. You're better at these things. I'll finish the beds."
Yohji nodded and headed for the door. He picked up the pair of folders, no sense in upsetting either of the newcomers by letting them see the reports about them. He stuffed them in the drawer of a rickety end table and then went to the door, unlocking it and regarding the younger man standing in the doorway.
The first thing that drew Yohji's attention was the diamond stud in the younger man's nose. "Can I help you?" he asked, not quite sure what to say other than that. He was pretty sure this was one of their new team mates, but he wasn't in the habit of making assumptions.
A pair of deep blue eyes gazed up for a cool, assessing moment before the newcomer spoke. When he did his voice was soft, quiet, on the tenor side of baritone, not unlike Yohji's own. "I'm Tanashi Kai...Bengal," he said.
Yohji regarded the kid standing on the steps of the safe house, �Bengal?� He glanced down the street, then stepped aside to let the younger man in. �Singapura isn�t with you?�
Kai frowned. "Singapura?" he queried. "I don't know who that is. Sorry." He accepted the unspoken invitation and, picking up his baggage, walked into the house. "You're Balinese, right?"
�Yeah. Kudoh Yohji, Balinese.� He shut the door and locked it. The safe house wasn�t in the best neighbourhood, and he wasn�t too happy with the fact that Seven was parked on the street behind Aya�s Porsche.
A silver Lexus had been added behind the Porsche although the newcomer didn't seem too bothered by its safety. Instead he dropped his bags and extended a hand. "An honour to meet you," he said politely.
�Yeah, sure kid, whatever.� Yohji didn�t take the offered hand, instead he crossed the living room, the tall man doing a good imitation of something with a total lack of bones as he flopped limply across a chair, legs over one arm.
He didn�t like the idea of being with two new people, especially not two who were so damned young.
Kai's eyes narrowed slightly at the apparent rudeness of the older man. "Listen, I don't want to be here anymore than you seem to want me here but I had no choice in the matter. So I guess we're just going to have to make the best we can of the situation. Now, if you'll tell me where my room is, I'll get my luggage and myself out of your hair, okay?"
Yohji sighed, �Aya�s making up the beds.� He pulled his cigarettes out, �I should probably help him. Come on, you got here first so you can pick the room you want.�
He flowed to his feet and headed for the stairs, �We�re all stuck in this, and none of us are happy. Keep your distance from Aya and life will be easier for you,� he warned.
Aya. Abyssinian. A name to conjure with if even half the stories were true. But then so was Balinese. Weiss had been Kritiker's top team and Kai felt proud to be included as part of Weiss mark four. Whether they could ever be as good as Weiss three had been was moot but he would give it his best shot. As long as the two leftovers from mark three accepted him at all. Balinese's attitude so far had been cool to say the least and from what he'd heard, Abyssinian was likely to be even worse. He swallowed a sigh as he picked up his bags and followed Yohji up the stairs.
Yohji found Aya in the room that had been Omi�s. �Bengal is here,� he announced. �No sign of the other one.�
He refused to become attached to these new boys. They weren�t Weiss and never would be. Weiss was just he and Aya now. Let the other two do what they wanted, let them kill, but he�d follow Aya�s lead.
Aya was all he had left now.
Aya turned to gaze at Kai with flat, emotionless eyes. "You're the one who was Yakuza, right? You'd better forget all of that now."
Kai swallowed, trying to dislodge the sudden lump that had become wedged in his throat. "Understood," he managed to say.
Aya sniffed and folded his arms across his chest. "Both rooms are ready so take your pick. They're both about the same size." With that he nodded once and swept past Kai and Yohji and down the stairs.
"Abyssinian," Kai breathed before pulling himself together and dumping his cases on the bed. "This room will be fine."
But the boy was talking to himself because Yohji had swept out of the doorway on Aya�s heels, the pair leaving a decidedly cold feeling in the atmosphere behind them.
Yohji caught up with Aya at the bottom of the stairs. �I�m going out for beer and smokes, you want anything?� he asked as he pulled his keys out of his pocket.
"No. I'm just going to make some tea and think about dinner for us all. Oh, yeah, you could pick up some rice while you're out."
Yohji nodded, �Rice. Okay.� He glanced at Aya, �Yakuza,� he muttered and shook his head, wondering exactly what Kritiker was thinking in sending them one of the very �dark beasts� they�d once hunted to be part of Weiss. The front door banged shut as he left.
Aya turned into the kitchen and brewed some green tea before settling to wait for the next arrival. He didn't think he would be long in showing up.
Yohji still hadn�t returned when a few sharp raps on the door sounded through the house. Sighing slightly, Aya rose gracefully to his feet and opened the door to gaze at the stranger standing there. He didn't look much like a cat but that meant absolutely nothing.
The boy bowed respectfully, �Fujimiya-san, I am Mitsuwa Zeshin. Forgive me for intruding, but Birman sent me here to be part of Weiss.� The boy never even looked up at the man, his eyes downcast, his actions those of an inferior speaking to someone of greater importance.
Beside him on the porch was a single bag and a laptop case, nothing else.
An classic American muscle car in wine red had been parked on the curb across the street, Yohji�s parking place for Seven still open, a trashcan sitting in the middle of the space to keep anyone from parking there.
Aya's brows rose slightly but he kept his thoughts to himself, merely saying, "you'd better come in," and opening the door wider to admit the boy.
The silver-haired boy bowed again, and picked up his things, slipping past Aya on totally silent feet. He paused just inside and slipped off his shoes, picking them up and tucking them under one arm.
�If Fujimiya-san would just direct me where my room is, I�m sure I can find it.� His head was still down, the boy making no effort to look at Aya whatsoever.
"Follow me," Aya said, his voice not unkind, and led the way to the stairs. He was wondering how such a traditional, shy boy could possibly be a killer. Then he remembered his own history and the quiet, studious boy who had become cold, deadly Abyssinian.
He opened the door to Ken's old room, still suffering a slight pang at the complete lack of mess since the soccer-nut had...gone.
Zeshin trailed silently in the taller man�s wake, amber eyes taking in the place. Simple, nothing fancy but liveable. He was determined to make the best of the situation with the two older more experienced Weiss. He respected them and knew they must resent his presence in their team. He didn�t blame them.
�Thank you, Fujimiya-san,� he murmured softly and bowed. He slipped past the older man, going into the room and setting his things down on the dresser.
The boy seemed more like the memory of a person than a real one. The ghost of someone who�d left the world of the living, only a moving and breathing shell remaining.
"Don't let revenge be your consuming passion," Aya said suddenly and without really knowing why. He just wanted to try preventing this boy from becoming the same as him, so closed off that he could no longer relate to other people until it was too late.
Zeshin raised his gaze to Aya, showing the man calm amber eyes that could hide anything, �I do not seek revenge, Fujimiya-san. All I seek is justice for those who have been wronged.�
Aya shrugged. He had taken this as far as he was prepared to go. "As you wish," he said and retreated to the kitchen and his tea.
Zeshin watched the man leave, unsure how to feel about Fujimiya-san�s softly delivered admonition about revenge. Everyone in Kritiker knew that had been the one thing driving Abyssinian when he�d become part of the organization. But he wasn�t like that. He knew revenge was a hollow victory at best.
No matter how many people he killed it could never bring his family back.
But it could keep others from experiencing the pain he felt and lived with every day of his life, and if it took a river of blood and piles of corpses then that was what would be. Fate had set him in this place and he would do his best to bear up under the necessities of that fate.